The Universal Language
by MrsTater
Summary: SpockxUhura: When words fail a Vulcan and a xenolinguist, they rely on a different form of language to express their feelings for each other.


_Written for the **Trek_Exchange **at LiveJournal, for **Celebros **who, among other things, requested Spock/Uhura at the Academy, with Spock making the first small move. I didn't think I was going to manage to write this before the deadline, but it happened, and I hope this fills your request nicely. Thanks to **Jadeddiva** and **Godricgal** for looking this over for me at the eleventh hour! _

* * *

**The Universal Language**

Spock looked up from his PADD as Cadet Uhura approached his desk. She stood with her shoulders erect and her hands clasped behind her back, a more formal posture than she normally adopted in the months since their association as instructor and teaching assistant had lent familiarity to their relationship. Though _his_ posture was, as always, correct, Spock found himself sitting up a little straighter and tugging at the hem of his tunic at his lap to straighten it across his shoulders.

"Commander?"

"Yes, Cadet Uhura, how may I assist you?"

"Are you aware that there's a Chorale concert tonight?"

"I am aware of it now."

"I'm in the Chorale," said Uhura.

Spock had been aware of that. "I do recall seeing you among the singers when the ensemble has performed at various Starfleet functions. It comes as no surprise to me that the aural sensitivity that makes you such an unmatched linguist would also grant you significant musical ability."

Uhura broke eye contact with him, and just caught her lower lip between her teeth in a small smile, before she replied, "Well, I _like_ to sing, anyway. My roommate doesn't seem so impressed with my shower singing." Meeting his gaze once more, she added. "I'm Vice President of the Chorale."

"Again, I am not surprised that you should hold a position of leadership in a non-academic organization. When you apply to a starship crew, your resume will be well-rounded and appealing to any captain in the fleet."

"Thank you," said Uhura, again not quite looking him in the eye. "But I didn't tell you all that to fish for flattery."

"Flattery is illogical," Spock said, shaking his head a little. Why did Humans have that tendency to dismiss a compliment as obsequiousness? Were they so insincere themselves that they could not conceive of earnestness from any species? "Why have you chosen to tell me about your concert and your position in the Chorale, Cadet Uhura?"

"Is there any way you could release me from my duties an hour or so early today? Our call is at nineteen hundred hours, and I've got to be there earlier to take care of some administrative duties, and I need to shower and change first."

"And practice singing in the shower?"

He had meant it as a joke, in reference to hear earlier remark about her roommate, but Uhura looked embarrassed. Her laughter did not fill her eyes, which were downcast.

"Of course I'd make up my time," she said quietly.

"You have proven to be as conscientious an assistant as you are a student. Yes, take your leave whenever you feel it is necessary."

"Thank you, Commander." She spun neatly on her heel, her skirt ruffling slightly at the motion, but then turned back, again looking devoid of her usual confidence. "Commander…"

Spock looked up from his PADD once more. "Yes, Cadet Uhura?"

"Have you ever attended a Chorale concert, sir?"

"I have not."

"You should sometime. We're pretty good, if I do say so myself." She added, with a shrug, "If you like choral music."

"Admittedly it is a form of Terran music with which I am largely unacquainted, though I have been intrigued by what I have heard of the Chorale at ceremonies."

"Well, if you'd like to acquaint yourself with more than the Federation Anthem, come to the Cultural Arts Center at twenty hundred hours."

They said no more about it, but to his chagrin, Spock continued to think about the conversation, and of Uhura's body language…

…and of her singing…in the shower.

* * *

In the Cultural Arts Center, Spock entered early to find Uhura in the lobby with four other cadets, including her Orion roommate, to whom she was handing out stacks of holographs he presumed to be concert programs, judging from her instructions to her colleagues which seemed to be about which doors to stand by. Turning and seeing him, her mouth fell open and, with an uncharacteristic lack of grace, she nearly dropped a stack.

"Oh my God, Commander Spock!"

Spock felt his face go warm and hoped his skin was not tinged green. He had hoped, perhaps illogically -- definitely illogically now -- that arriving well before the concert time would not put him in Uhura's path, as she had told him she had duties prior to the concert he had not planned to see her until the following day's office hours, when he could inform her that he had attended the concert and offer his opinion of the music. He certainly had not been prepared to run into her wearing her dress uniform, with her upswept hair arranged an a complicated formal style that made him picture her once again in her dormitory bathroom, performing the private task of dressing. The Orion girl -- Gaila, Uhura had referred to her on numerous occasions, though he did not know whether she had any other name -- was looking at him through slightly narrowed eyes, as if she knew what he was thinking.

"You are surprised by my presence," he stated.

"Well, yes, a little."

He arched an eyebrow. "You extended an invitation without belief that I would accept it?"

If Uhura was chagrined by this, she masked it with a broad grin. "I'm glad you did." She handed him a program. "I think you're going to love it."

The eyebrow inched higher on his forehead, and Uhura laughed. For the first time that day, she seemed at her ease, as if she were truly in her element here -- she the instructor, he the student. "Or rather, I think you'll find it an aesthetically stimulating performance."

Spock scanned the program's holographic cover. "_Ein Deutches Requiem_, by Johannes Brahms." He looked up at her. "Nineteenth Century German composer of the late Romantic period."

"I thought you said you were unfamiliar with choral music."

"Knowledge of a composer's name, country of origin, and epoch hardly constitutes knowledge of his music."

"You're light years ahead of most people, then," said Uhura. "Like Gaila here, who's handing out programs because she owes me one. Commander Spock," she said, grabbing her friend's arm, "this is my roommate."

"So I surmised."

"I've heard a lot about you," said Gaila. "Seriously, Nyota talks about you all the friggin' time."

Spock caught Uhura's cheeks darkening, and caught her eyes. "I believe the same is true of you."

Gaila playfully punched Uhura in the arm. "Good things, I hope."

"I should take my leave," Spock said before the conversation could progress, "and the program notes to familiarize myself with the piece."

"Sit on the left," Uhura called as he slipped through one set of double doors, flanked by two cadets.

Spock did, about two-thirds of the way back in the hall on the aisle for the best acoustics. He realized as the choir filed onstage and a pair of familiar dark eyes beneath an elaborate coif of hair sought him out, that she had told him to sit there because she stood on that side.

And that she was very pleased to have him watching her.

* * *

"So, what did you think of the Brahms _Requiem_?" Cadet Uhura asked the next afternoon, sweeping through the door to his office an hour earlier than usual with none of the timidity with which she had approached him about the Chorale concert. Her hair, arranged once again in her customary ponytail, swung jauntily with her gait.

On the contrary, today it was Spock who did not feel comfortable proceeding to offer his opinion. Though he had carefully formulated his answer with an un-Vulcan attention to tact, anticipating that Uhura, in Human fashion, might take criticism of the music personally, he had not accounted for her expectant, even hopeful eyes. He did not wish to disappoint her. Perhaps flattery was not so illogical after all.

He stood, drawing a breath, and tugged at his tunic. His planned response was adequate. "Nothing in the Chorale's performance of the music was unsatisfactory."

"But the music itself?"

"I think that I am not, as Humans would say, a Brahms fan."

To his relief, Uhura smiled. "I was afraid all that unrestrained emotion might be a bit much for Vulcan ears."

Spock regarded her beneath a raised eyebrow. "I believe you said you thought I would love it."

"But I meant I hoped you wouldn't hate it, especially since you'd made an effort to come. You see what small audiences our concerts get. I couldn't scare you away by saying I didn't think you'd like it."

"That is logical."

She began to unpack her satchel, arranging her PADDs on her small desk in the corner of the office. "That was why I didn't specifically invite you to last night's concert. Later in the semester we're doing some things you'll probably like better."

"You did not inform me that you were to sing a solo."

Uhura's back was to him, but Spock observed that she ducked her head slightly anyway, as if to hide a blush. "I didn't want to seem like I was showing off."

"Fascinating. Is it showing off if I state that I am a grandmaster of three-dimensional chess?"

"Vulcans can get away with things Humans can't."

"You are avoiding the question."

"Okay," said Uhura, turning to him, laughing. "So I'll ask what you thought of my solo."

The instant the words left her mouth, her laughter died, as if something she had seen on his face had startled her into silence. Which was preposterous -- he was Vulcan, and did not belie his emotions with facial expression. He could speak honestly with her, without fear of revelation of the deeper feelings behind his words: that he had been transported, and thought her beautiful.

"The quality of your voice exceeded my high expectations. In spite of my distaste of the music, your tonality was pleasing and evocative. I shall look for future opportunities to hear you sing again."

"Thank you," she said, eyes dropping, briefly, before darting upward again, bright with enthusiasm. "We begin rehearsing Bach next. I _know_ you'll be a Bach fan."

"Or do you mean you hope I will not hate Bach?"

Uhura grinned as she seated herself at her desk. "Bach's music is based on logic -- he composed almost mathematically."

"Already he meets with my approval, and I have not yet heard his music," Spock said, resuming his own seat behind his desk.

Rather than opening her PADDs to mark essays, Uhura was flicking through her music player. "Just wait till you hear him. Damn. You may have to wait. I thought I had some Bach on here. I love to work to Bach."

"I am certain I can download Bach music from the music database."

"Don't bother -- I know just the pieces you should hear. I'll send you some tonight."

"Perhaps we could listen together," Spock said on impulse. "My appreciation may be enhanced by your knowledge of Terran musical theory."

"Sure. Like I said, Bach's great to work by."

Though it did not realize it until that moment, Spock had meant listen to music together _outside_ of work.

But he could not bring himself to tell her.

* * *

He did, however, bring himself to show her.

He was standing in front of his desk, waiting for her, a few days later. "Ah, Cadet Uhura." He tugged at his tunic, smoothing it over his chest.

"Afternoon, Commander." Her voice lilted upward and one eyebrow was raised slightly, in question.

"I was waiting for you."

"So I see. Am I late?"

"No, you are punctual, as always. Early, even. Which I counted on. Before we begin today…" He reached into his trouser pocket and drew out two holographic cards. "Since we have made it a habit to listen to music together, I took the liberty of acquiring tickets to a San Francisco Symphony Chorus concert."

Uhura took one of the tickets from him. "German Greats," she read, and locked eyes with him. "There's Brahms on this program."

"And Bach, among other composers with whom I am unfamiliar. We are, therefore, each guaranteed to enjoy a portion of the concert," Spock said, for Uhura had been right; he had become an instant Bach fan.

Suddenly it occurred to him that he ought to have inquired about her schedule before purchasing the tickets. He had been impulsive, potentially reckless, upon seeing the concert advertisement flash across his PADD screen while reading his email.

"That is," he added, slowly, "assuming your schedule will allow you to attend with me."

"It just so happens that I'm free that night." Uhura's smile faded. "Spock…" She paused, moistened her lips; Spock felt his own mouth go dry. She had never before addressed him without his title, and the sound of it pleased him. "Are you asking me to go on a…_date_?"

Spock stared at the cadet for some time before he decided that that was, exactly, what he was doing, had wanted to do for some time, but had not known until he began to imagine her singing in her shower, and had not known how to do prior to this moment.

"Yes, Nyota." Her name felt like song upon his lips and tongue. "After all, as Humans so wisely say, music is the universal language."

_The End_


End file.
